


All Along the Watchtower

by ennyousai



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-02
Updated: 2011-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-14 08:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ennyousai/pseuds/ennyousai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sea-faring societies of Earth’s antiquity had all believed in some sort of benevolent deity who looked after sailors and guided them safely home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Along the Watchtower

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably make very little sense unless you've seen all of the Battlestar Galactica reboot, but it is set firmly in the STXI world. This is just a little idea I've had bouncing around in my head for quite a while now, so I just jotted it down.
> 
> In essence, Jim is lost. Then someone guides him back

The last conversation between Georgia and Winona Kirk was preserved in the Starfleet Archives under restricted access. It was rarely used, out of respect for its highly personal nature, but from time to time someone requested it. Christopher Pike had been given permission to use it while working on his dissertation, and Jim Kirk had listened to it his first semester at the Academy (and hadn’t come back to the dorm for two days after, almost driving McCoy out of his mind with worry). They experienced it in very different ways - Pike approached it with the detached, dispassionate attitude of a researcher, whereas Jim was an angry, grieving child with tears in his eyes and loneliness in his heart - but both of them noticed something odd. Just before the recording cut out, they could swear they heard traces of a third voice begin to speak. Which was impossible, of course - George Kirk had been the only remaining officer on the _Kelvin_ , and everyone on Medical Shuttle No.37 was accounted for. There could be no third person speaking. It had to be nothing more than a glitch in the recording.

Still, though. Sometimes they thought about it, and wondered.

* * *

The sea-faring societies of Earth’s antiquity had all believed in some sort of benevolent deity who looked after sailors and guided them safely home. The Chinese claimed that St. Elmo’s Fire was a sign from the goddess Mazu meant to steer ships through treacherous waters, while Japanese sailors were always sure to offer prayers to Benzai-ten. The Greeks told stories about the Nereids, those nymphs of the deep who gave aid to struggling ships; the Romans believed that Salacia was to thank for calm, untroubled seas. Even in later years, when the old religions gave way to Christianity, the sailors still believed that the Virgin Mary watched over them and honored her accordingly.

Over a millennium later, when mankind had journeyed to the stars themselves, those who sailed aboard the immense starships gave honor to the mysterious powers they believed watched over them. They did not believe it was all-powerful, of course - nothing could ever control the universe down to minutiae - but they knew that something had to have guided Jim Kirk on to the _Enterprise_ in order to ensure that Earth itself would be spared. And after they arrived back to San Francisco, the superstitious quietly tossed offerings of milk and honey into the bay , thanking her for her guidance.

* * *

In 2262, Captain James T. Kirk was drifting alone through darkness of space in a shuttle whose life support was failing.

He ran his fingers over the control panels, trying yet again to gain some control over the malfunctioning craft, but not really surprised that it didn’t work. He sighed and shook his head in resignation. It wasn’t exactly the most heroic way to exit this world, but he supposed they couldn’t all go out in a blaze of self-sacrificing glory. Sometimes it was less dramatic.

Well, to be fair, his escape from the royal prisons of I’valie had been quite dramatic. The story was classic: a planet divided by civil war, one faction thinking that holding a famous Starfleet Captain hostage would give their side leverage, plenty of time spent under lock and key. Using his wits and charm to get close to his jailers, running through the dank subterranean tunnels under cover of night. Finally getting on to this barely serviceable shuttle, and damn I’valien technology, damn it all to hell, because this thing would never pass muster with the ‘Fleet -

Jim let himself smile, just a little. He could picture Bones at his funeral, ranting about how he’d warned Jim Kirk time and again that space was disease and danger, shuttles were death traps, and the oh-so-esteemed Captain of the Enterprise didn’t have any sense of self-preservation whatsoever. Bones’ face would be red, and his hazel eyes would be snapping with self-righteous indignation -

\- and then he’d cry. He’d cry because he and Jim had been practically joined at the hip ever since that first shuttle ride, and stupid, stubborn bastard that he was, he’d blame himself for Jim’s death.

Jim ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and tried to think of something he hadn’t tried yet, something that could get this damn shuttle working again. He sure as hell didn’t want to make his best friend cry.

There was a sudden burst of static on the intercom and Jim jerked in surprise. He’d just checked it, and it had been completely fried.

There was another harsh crackle and then a woman’s voice, low and amused, came through the speakers. “You lost out here, hotshot?”

Jim surged to his feet and pressed down on the comm button. “Hello? Can someone out there hear me?” He glanced at the radar screen; while it was unreliable at best, it would surely have picked up on another ship...

Laughter came through the speakers, a good-natured cackle that made Jim remember the loud, exuberant end-of-term parties in the Castro’s bars. “Yeah, I’m out here. I won’t be showing up on your instruments, though, so don’t bother looking. Just give me a sec and I’ll head over.”

Jim blinked. “Wait, wha-” he started to say, but before he could finish he found himself staring at the woman who’d just appeared in front of him dressed in a flight suit that made him think of twenty-first century fighter pilot uniforms.

“Hey,” she said, shaking out the blonde hair hanging down to her shoulders. “So. Lost.”

“Yeah,” said Jim, and blinked. “Look, how’d you get over here? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure that what you just did -”

She cackled gleefully and waved his disjointed protest aside. “I’m pretty sure someone from your Earth once something about there being more things in heaven and earth, right? It’s kinda like that.”

“Huh.” Jim watched in a state of bemusement as she started pushing what seemed like a random combination of buttons. There was no way it could possibly work, but...

“Fuck me.” Jim leaned forward in astonishment as the shuttle suddenly came to life around him. “How the hell did you _do_ that?”

She glanced over at him, eyebrows raised in amusement, and flashed a megawatt grin. “You’re cute enough, that’s for sure.” Something warm and happy twisted in Jim’s stomach, but then she was turning away, back to the flashing lights of the control panel. “I’ve always had a knack for this sort of thing,” she mused, almost to herself. “I mean, I wasn’t a knuckle dragger or anything like that, but I knew my way around a ship.” She ran her fingers affectionately over the console. “I like the things you guys have done over the years. It’s different enough to be interesting.”

Jim had no idea what’s going on, but he decided he liked this woman, whoever she was. She had _spunk_. That was something he’d always appreciated, and he wondered why he’d never seen her at the Academy. She was clearly comfortable up here in space, and knew her way around Starfleet equipment. He couldn’t really picture her on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ , though - _too impersonal, too far from the stars_ , he thought, only he wasn’t sure why.

“You got a name?” he asked.

“Oh, man, I’ve gone through a lot.” He could hear her grin. “I still kinda like Kara, even if Aurora has a nice ring to it.”

Jim rememberd listening to the _Kelvin_ recordings and hearing a voice whose words he couldn’t quite make out. “Aurora,” he said. “Greek goddess of the dawn, right?”

Her lips twisted upward in a smile. “She’s older than your Greeks,” she said. “Much older.”

“Didn’t she guide the sailors home, or something?”

“Home, or whatever’s next.” She turned away from the control panel, apparently satisfied. “But for you, it’s back to your ship.”

She was directly in front of him now, and cupped his chin in her cool hands before leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead, then the lips. “Everything will be all right,” she murmured. “You’ll see.”

He was about to ask her how she could possibly know that when she was gone just as suddenly as she’d arrived.

Two hours later the _Enterprise_ found him, and he’d never been quite so relieved to hear Sulu’s voice.

* * *

They claimed it was a miracle he’d been found. The _Enterprise_ had been making one last, desperate past through the I’valien system to see if they could have possibly missed something when they caught the faint readings from the shuttle. Scotty had examined the craft as soon as it was recovered and had said he had no bloody idea how the damned thing had been able to send any signals whatsoever. Spock had gone so far as to visit Jim in sickbay and actually _clasp his shoulder_ , and Bones had been doing his best to shadow Jim’s footsteps ever since he came back.

The first thing Jim did once he was given a clean bill of health was steal away to the small interfaith chapel and light a candle in honor of the goddess Aurora. He doubted that he would ever see her again, but he figured it would always a good thing to acknowledge a debt.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he watched the small light burn. “I appreciate it.”

And somewhere in the distance, he thought he could hear the sound of laughter.


End file.
